TRUSTED LIKE THE FOX

chapter 9

The telephone was in the hall. Delphina looked up, her finger poised over the dial. She looked ghastly, and her face and lips were white.

We stared at each other. She held the receiver in her hand. I held the gun in mine, and I pointed it at her.

"Hang up," I said. "Quick!"

I could see she thought I was going to murder her. Shakily, she replaced the receiver.

"Sit do. We need to talk. Were you going to call the police?" I asked.

She sank into the chair. It was a nervy five or six seconds while I waited, and while she stared at me, hesitating. I was pretty sure she wouldn't call the police, but if she had made a move to the telephone, I would have stopped her.

She said finally, "it was an accident," her voice a husky whisper.

"Can you prove it was an accident? If you had been alone here when it happened, you might possibly get away with it, but not with me here. You'd better make up your mind what you are going to do. If you don't want the money, call the police, I won't stop you."

"Just give me the money. I'll leave here. I promise I won't tell anyone about you."

"No! You'll only get the money when I've decided it's safe for you to have it. If you can't wait for it, then call the police and lose everything."

Her disappointment, her frustration, and her fury showed clearly on her face.

"Get out of here!" she screamed at me. "Get out!" she threw herself face down on the sofa and began to sob wildly.

I knew then I had won. I went out of the room, shutting the door. I would give her a little time to get over her tantrums, and then she would help me bury him.

After an hour, I decided to see how Delphina was doing. The light was still on in the bedroom as I approached the house. I went to the same bedroom. Turning the handle, I found the door locked.

"Delphina! Come on! You've got to help me!"

"Stay away from me!" she screamed.

"I'm not helping you! You'll never make me do it!"

She sounded hysterical and half out of her mind. I hadn't time to bother her. I had to do the job on my own.

It took me about 3 and half hours to dig up the grave, got him into it, shoveled in the soil, and stamped flat. It was  hell to bury a man as good and fine as Perry, but there was nothing I could do if I were going to save myself from the gas chamber.

I felt I should have said a prayer over him, but I had forgotten any prayer I might have known, but I felt bad.

I moved a heavy work bench over the grave, swept up, and surveyed the scene. I had made a thorough job of it.

No one would know nor guess that a dead man lay four feet below that work bench.

I went over to my room. I stripped off and took another shower, then I went to my bed and lay down. My mind was restless and uneasy for me to sleep. I lit a cigarette and stared up at the ceiling.

Now was the time to cook up a story to take care of Perry permanent absence. If my story wasn't good enough and convincingly, someone could become suspicious, and the police would move in. My story had to be good.

***

By seven-thirty in the morning, when I was taking a shower, I had a story that satisfied me. It wasn't one hundred percent foolproof, but at least it was believable.

I got out of the shower, still feeling tired, and after dressing up, I walked over to the house.

I found Delphina in the kitchen. As I came in, she turned and faced me. She looked pretty calm and relaxed as if nothing had happened.